


Patterns In The Smoke

by dorkery



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-29
Updated: 2011-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:15:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorkery/pseuds/dorkery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twice is coincidence. Thrice is a pattern.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patterns In The Smoke

He was used to operating under the cover of darkness. It was the best camouflage, the best veil to blanket his every move as he prowled through the nooks and crannies of Gotham’s towers and spires. Soundless boots and controlled breaths, those were his weapons in night. In the dead of winter, he was even more invisible. He saw his breath thicken and curl in the air, shapeless and white, like smoke, and it was the only trace that he had ever been anywhere at all.

Dick always said his movements were catlike. Not entirely without grace. He was quiet, he always was, and it was a good thing. Quick on his feet and with nary a footstep to echo at his heels. He was good at this.

Underneath his skin, he felt something quiver.

Dick didn’t turn and, for once, Damian liked to think that it was because he was finally quiet enough to catch him off-guard, but Dick _knew_ anyway. _From the gargoyle_ , he probably heard him say, but Damian didn’t care for stealth anymore as he strode resolutely to Batman when he finally turned, and grabbed him by his cape, crushing their mouths together. He was forceful, always would be and always had to be, relentlessly kissing him through the startled sound Dick made, and even when he wrenched Damian away, he struggled to regain control. Dick was stronger. Damian felt his glare could have melted steel but the man was impervious to it like always.

“Damian.”

He always used his real name when he wanted to instigate some sort of filial emotion. In himself, at least. The sound of it made Damian’s blood burn hotter, made him growl and hiss and twist in his grip. Never _Robin_. No, _Robin_ insinuated some sort of equality, that this was free for him to take. _Damian_ was a little boy, a little brother he could coddle, someone _beneath_ him. It was enraging and thrilling all the same, to think that Dick needed to remind himself of the fact.

Above, he saw the faintest blue from Dick’s eyes through the white lenses in the cowl. His breath was rough but slow, wisps that came out in thin and smoky puffs as he hovered close, unconsciously biting on his lower lip in that gesture that showed he was thinking. What words to say. What names to use. His grip never once slackened but Damian wasn’t struggling anymore.

“No real names in the field,” he said, smirk visible under moonlight. “Your words.”

Dick’s frown deepened.

“We’ve talked about this.”

“Endlessly.”

“We can’t _do this_.”

“I beg to differ.”

“ _Damian._ ”

Damian narrowed his eyes up at Dick.

“You had absolutely no qualms the first two times. I don’t see why a third time would prove to be an issue of any sort, _Batman_.”

“Stop that,” Dick hissed, patience starting to fray. Damian noted with interest that his grip tightened. “I’m fourteen years older than you. I should have known better than to take advantage of you.”

“Twice.”

“Damian!” He regained control over his voice, gritting his teeth. “This is not the time for you to be a smart ass.”

The words were on the tip of his tongue, acidic and cold as per usual, but Dick’s mouth was drawn tight and his breaths were harsher than ever. He’d learnt over the years that every little twitch and spasm meant something. The ‘family’ was made up of these wordless vignettes through the incessant nattering of which they seemed so fond; more important than words was this, the subtle bob of a swallow, the wetted mouth, the twitching fingers. This was Dick, pushed against his will, stretched thin like a _wire_.

Damian’s smirk widened slowly.

Behind the lenses, he saw those eyes widen.

Something like resignation followed.

“Shit,” Dick hissed under his breath. “ _Shit._ ”

All at once, there was a hand on his throat, fingers pressing against his chin as Dick grabbed it and pulled his mouth open, lips against lips and tongue against tongue, just _forcing_ himself on Damian now, slamming his back against the wall. Damian pressed back eagerly despite himself, free now to tighten his fist in the front of Dick’s cape and jerk him closer. He felt a hand slide down the length of his body and he arched into the touch. Cool leather brushed his skin as it pushed away the thick upper tunic of his costume and down into his tights. There was too much armour between them, frustrating him beyond all means as he scrambled uselessly to do away with Dick’s utility belt and whatever stood between him and bare skin.

Damian stiffened in Dick’s arms as he squeezed his ass, gasping into the kiss. They were rutting against each other now, the damned cups limiting any satisfactory sensations but the feelings were there all the same. It was infuriating even as Damian began to grind back feverishly, tense and completely on edge, wishing to god that he’d decided to do this when they were in less complex clothing, Batman’s cowl notwithstanding.

A sharp _click_ derailed his train of thought as he heard, rather than felt, his own utility belt falling away from its firm hold around his waist and clattering to the ground. Dick’s mouth was on his throat as his hands worked him out of his costume. Skittishly, Damian ripped off his gauntlets, perturbed by his inability to feel directly with his fingertips, running his hands up Dick’s chest and gripping his shoulders as they began to grind harder against each other. His eyes fluttered shut, trying to savour the rising and falling of the tension, biting down on his lower lip as Dick pressed his mouth by his ear, all hot breaths and low growls. This was hardly enough, hardly _anything_ at all, and as Batman’s cape enveloped them both, Damian barely realised he had been shaking from the cold. Through some blind fumbling, he managed to slip his hand down the front of Dick’s costume. Above, he heard a groan rumble through the man’s chest as his cold fingers found Dick’s cock and squeezed.

“Inside.”

He mindlessly obeyed the growled order, stumbling backwards into the stairwell. Everything there was glaringly white, sterile and pristine under the harsh fluorescent light. Damian had no time to catch his breath as Dick tore off his cowl, unclipping the cape and tossing everything aside. Hot hands prised apart his tunic roughly, moving past the Kevlar to skim wandering fingers along the body suit, tracing out the firm contours of his lean body. Dick pushed down the bottom half of his costume, exposing his groin to the still air as he reached forward to pull out Damian’s cock.

He let out a choke at that, running his left hand through Dick’s hair, threading his fingers through it and gripping as he pulled the man down and forced him into another kiss when he began to pump Damian in earnest. He reached forward with his free hand to reciprocate, shaking all the while, suddenly flooded with sensation now that there was nothing to hinder direct contact. He heard himself moan as they stroked each other faster, squeezed tighter, but just as they were about to go beyond the brink, Dick stopped completely, sending him reeling.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Damian growled, but Dick shut the protest up with another kiss before he took one of Damian’s legs and brought it up against his hip. Damian braced himself against the railing, licking his lips in anticipation as he understood. He watched quietly as Dick spat into his hand, coating his fingers with saliva before bringing it down to penetrate Damian gently. He moved slow, withstanding the light squirming as he incremented and slid his fingers in and out.

“I’m not a doll,” Damian huffed impatiently, biting down a groan. “Don’t be so damned delicate with me.”

Under normal circumstances (please, would this ever fall under such a thing) Dick would smile or grin and completely ignore Damian to perform according to his better judgement, but this fell outside the realm of everything Dick was ever comfortable with and now, especially now, when he couldn’t think straight and with the oppressive feeling coiling inside him, he was all out of better judgements.

“Your call,” he said shortly, gripping Damian by the knee and pushing his cock into him without much ceremony. Damian let out a cry at the suddenness of it all but Dick barely heard it. His eyes were squeezed shut as he leant over Damian, breaths coarse and abrupt, trembling at the sheer sensation – and he moved, no ceremony at all, not anymore. He rammed into Damian over and over again, holding onto him for dear life as he lost himself in the smell of leather and ice and smoke and the sounds of skin slapping against skin and aching groans that escalated in pitch every time he drove in at the right angle.

 _Yes_. Damian didn’t know, couldn’t know if he ever said it aloud or if it was just in his head, but it was the only thing running through his mind at that point. _Yes, yes, yes_. He discarded any notion of putting up guards or façades when it came to this, bare and exposed and _finally, finally_ exactly where he’d wanted to be. He chanced stability, letting his head hang back with one hand on the railing as the other reached for his own cock to squeeze and pump frantically. It hurt, of course it hurt, but it hurt in the way Damian could appreciate and when Dick twisted into him, he felt lightning shoot throughout his entire body. He grinded back against Dick, reciprocating every single thrust until Dick pulled him down and fucked him hard enough that he came with a gasp, eyes wide and staring up at the too-bright lights, body seizing up before sighing into Dick’s embrace. He felt his body convulse, coming pulse after pulse into his own hand, tiredly leaning forward and allowing himself to be rolled onto his back on the ground. Lazily, he wrapped his legs around Dick’s waist, squeezing his muscles as Dick continued moving in and out, picking up the pace once again and finally slamming into his own orgasm.

There was a sudden weight on him. Dick slumped over Damian and laid on the floor, an arm across his chest, his mouth by Damian’s ear. He felt Dick’s finger curve inward, toying with a few loose strands of his hair, and they stayed that way a while to catch their breaths.

“Twice is coincidence,” Damian whispered breathlessly, turning his head. “Thrice is a pattern.”

Dick’s eyes fluttered but didn’t close.

“That was what I was afraid of.”


End file.
